//------------------------------// // Part Thirteen // Story: Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone // by Tundara //------------------------------// Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone By Tundara Part Thirteen A subdued pink flash accompanied Cadence’s appearance atop a select, secluded tower in the corner of Canterlot Castle. In years gone by, the tower had been her own private little sanctuary when visiting her aunt. For the past few months now, it had served as the home for Iridia Tuilerya. Cadence was greeted, therefore, not by a cold fireplace and shuttered rooms, but light sweeping in through the windows and the heady smells of burning incense mingled with the sharper notes of strong cheeses. Blinking and confused by the smoky atmosphere for a few seconds, Cadence wondered if the tower was on fire. The distinct lack of any sort of commotion from the Canterlot fire-brigades told her this was not the case. “Aunty?” Cadence tentatively called as she descended from the spell chamber. There was no reply, so she called again with a little more volume. When there was still no reply, Cadence quickly extended her senses to see if her aunt was around. At once, she was struck by the proximity of her great aunt’s energy, as well as its unusually bubbly nature. Immediately, Cadence’s thoughts turned to Shining, and wishing he was holding her as they lounged beneath warm covers, saffron candles flickering on the nightstand as his hoof made slow motions over her cutie mark before curving towards her inner thigh. A sharp shake of her head dislodged the thoughts before they could grow lurid, contemplating what they’d do with the bowl of nearby cherries, for instance, or their tongues. It took a couple more shakes and a hoofstomp to fully banish the enticing images. Erecting a partition within her mind to keep the fantasies at bay, while also preserving them for later enjoyment, Cadence resumed her descent and again called for Iridia.   Wondering why there was still no response, she moved a little quicker until she was on the first floor landing. She found her great aunt sitting in the middle of the tower’s main room, all the furniture pushed up against the walls and covered with tarpaulins, eyes closed as she swayed side-to-side in a trance. An eye cracked open, and Iridia gave Cadence a drunken smile followed by a hiccup. “Candy, back so soon?” Iridia giggled and leaned forward, wings wobbling to prevent her from toppling onto her nose. “You should be with that husband fellow of yours. Doing… It.” “It?” Cadence repeated, wondering what was wrong with her aunt. “You know. Rutting. Performing the dance of life. Cha-cha-cha, ha-ha-ha.” Falling onto her side, Iridia let out a long series of guffaws while Cadence’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She was exceptionally thankful that nopony was around to overhear. “Oh! Another one!”   Iridia bounded to her hooves, head craning towards the north in a perfect imitation of a pointer hound. “That makes three.” “Three what?” “Oh… Nothing?” There was a lopsided grin, one that pleaded for Cadence to ask again for an answer. Not playing along, Cadence rolled her eyes and said, “Okay. I need to—” “Alicorns.” Iridia grabbed Cadence by the face, yanking her over so they were eye-to-eye. Her wintry blue eyes were foggy, lost, searching Cadence’s face and yet not. “Little, lovely alicorn foals. Souls. Alicorn souls, twisting, twirling, swirling and swimming through the Font. Three of them! That has never happened before.” Cadence was released, a little more clarity growing in her aunt’s features. A little ‘oh’ of surprise broke from the vastly older alicorn, followed by a sputtered apology. “I’m sorry, Cadence, when did you get here?” Iridia’s cheeks darkened, and she rushed off to one side of the room where an open bottle of fruity wine sat along with some cheeses and days old crackers. “A few minutes ago,” Cadence hesitantly replied. “Is this… normal?” she waved a hoof at the room. Pouring the wine into four paper cups, Iridia let out a short burst of giggles. “Oh? This? No. Normally I like to keep the company of a stallion or four this time of year.” She winked as she turned back to Cadence and offered one of the cups. “Why, there was this one time I was in ancient Roam when the Season began. Now that was a Season. ‘Mellen vanima’; to love is beautiful. Love, in this sense meaning—” Cadence quickly held up her hoof and said, “I get it. Really. Aunt Celestia did teach me a little of the ancient tongue.” “Oh?” Iridia giggled and laid back against a pair of stacked chairs draped in a satin quilt, a hoof lazily rubbing circles on her flank. “That’s good. You should know your heritage.” Huffing in exasperation, Cadence could feel her patience wearing thin. She needed to get back to the manor. And then there was Abaddon’s rune, pressing on the boundaries she’d set around it. “What would Twilight say if she saw you like this?” Cadence verged on snapping, and only barely held her tone in check. “Might do her good,” Iridia laughed. “It’s not fair that my sister gets to have a granddaughter; one she doesn’t seem to appreciate no less! You are so beautiful and kind. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for looking after Twilight during her fostering. Oh, that reminds me.” Cadence’s face twitched at the mention of fostering, unseen by Iridia as she reached for a nearby bell. Getting up, she started for the door. She’d lingered too long in Canterlot. Her great aunt was fine, better than fine if Iridia’s radiating glow was any indication, and Tyr needed her. She’d almost reached the door when it was pushed open and one of the Solar Guard entered, a flat, professional stare on his face. He hardly even glanced in Cadence’s direction as he came to a stop and saluted. “Yes, Your Majesty?” “Flash dear, there you are, good!” Far faster than her tipsy state would have indicated as possible, Iridia bounced over to Cadence and draped a wing and leg over her withers. “You need to find Twilight’s champion and perform the ‘Ritual of Life’ with her.” “You want me to do what with Princess Twilight’s champion?” The pegasus tilted his head ever so slightly, confusion lingering on his face as his eyes darted from Iridia to Cadence, and back again. Iridia gave a sharp shake of her head and almost slipped from Cadence’s support. “No, not with her, with Twilight. You need to plow her. And quick. Hop to it soldier boy. Your foal will be grand! Also, why does my Twilight already have a champion? Who taught her how to do that… Probably one of her stars. Yes, that must be it. My Twilight is so special and smart and you two will have a wonderful foal, so go find her already and get with the foal making.” Flash gave Iridia a deadpan glare, his face a brilliant shade of red underneath his orange coat, then turned to Cadence. “Your Highness, is there anything you can do for Her Majesty? She’s been like this for days now. With Princess Celestia gone and Princess Luna now away, nopony has any idea what to do with her.” Letting out a sigh, and seeing that she couldn’t leave Iridia alone in her current condition, Cadence wearily said, “Have a chariot readied to fly us to Sparkledale. I’ll figure out someway to alleviate her… condition.” Internally she added, ‘I hope.’ Relief clear in the way his wings relaxed, the guard saluted and marched off to carry out his orders with perhaps a touch too much speed. Finding a salve or antidote for Iridia’s erratic behaviour was all but impossible. It was the Season, and short of somehow cutting her off from the Font, there was simply nothing that could be done. With the magic coursing through her, Iridia would burn through the effects of almost all medicines—magical and mundane—in a matter of minutes, if not quicker, and Cadence doubted her aunt would sit still to go through breathing exercises. Gritting her teeth and wishing the guards would hurry so they could be on their way to Sparkle Manor, Cadence sat next to Iridia as her aunt began to poke the air. Iridia’s eyes darted like she were speed-reading, and a few times she clicked her tongue and said just under her breath, “No, not for you, for her.”   Oddly, her presence was enough to calm the queen, and after a few minutes Iridia’s hoof drooped and she began to merely sway side-to-side while humming an ancient lullaby. Letting her eyes slide shut a little—it had been days since she’d had a proper rest—Cadence began to doze. It wasn’t a very restful nap, worries about Tyr circling with the hungry motions of desert vultures, ready to peck at her in a moment of weakness. How she hoped everypony at the manor was alright. A reflexive check on the love binding her to Shining and Tyr showed both were afraid or worried about something. Shining’s in particular was rough and wounded. There was something else off about the cords that bound Shining to all the ponies he loved. Cadence stared harder, determined to figure out what was wrong, only to have the entire effort shattered.   “Do you know why I intrusted Twilight to the Sparkles?” Iridia’s question jerked Cadence’s head back up. “What?” Much of the giddiness from before was gone, Iridia’s motions far more fluid and contained. She continued to look ahead at whatever it was she saw—the Font, without question—but there was a little pinched reserve at the corner of her old eyes. “We have a few minutes until the pressure of the Season builds again, and I thought I’d tell you why I sent Twilight to the Sparkles instead of directly to Canterlot for Celestia to mold into her little tool to save your mother.” Cadence frowned at the bitterness, but shrugged her wings, and was happy to play along so long as it kept Iridia away from her earlier topics. “Because Velvet is a friend.” “Oh, she is a friend. Now.” Iridia paused in her poking the air, a sardonic smile flashing across her muzzle before she returned to her work. “She wasn’t then. She is a very dangerous pony, prone to violence and vengeance. The former Countess Lulamoon wasn’t some random accident, though I doubt Velvet ever intended to kill Belladonna. “No, it’s because Twilight reminded her of… Oh! It’s Queen Summerset! Who to give her to? Royalty, of course… Oh, this is perfect.” And like that, Iridia’s serious expression was gone, her hooves clapping like she were a foal herself. “Ask your mother about Summerset. They grew up together, you know. Or don’t. Might be bad. Terrible memories. Terrible ones. It’s so good to see her back on the disc again. Oh, Tartarus, the queen of Coltsica is already expecting… Maybe… Yes, somewhere in the Neighpon queendoms. There, she’s perfect! A little rustic, but royalty, and that’s what matters. And she’ll be a first born again. That’s even better, you know. A promise is a promise, no matter the ages in between.” Cadence couldn’t help but smile, despite Iridia’s giddy rambling. Iridia’s love was strong, a little wild and free as well, but very earnest, especially when she talked about Twilight. She then braced herself for the upcoming deluge of lewd suggestions. She was spared by the reappearance of Flash informing them the chariot was prepared.         Immeasurably grateful to the young guard, Cadence helped Iridia up and out of the tower. “Cadence. I have something for you, child,” Iridia purred as she was lead towards the coach house where their transport waited. She pulled away from Cadence’s guiding wing, magic alighting along her horn. Doing her best not to allow her impatience at returning to Sparkledale to get the better of her, Cadence tried to get Iridia moving again, only for her aunt to dance out of reach again. The magic Iridia was summoning grew, a faint whistle coupled with a jolt in the field of Love flittering across Cadence’s senses. From the tip of Iridia’s horn emerged a large aquamarine. A spinning nexus of magic coalesced into the stone, wrapping around itself until it was impossibly tight. With a little pop, the gem fell, Iridia just barely catching it before it hit the ground.   She gave Cadence the glowing gemstone, almost pushing it into her hooves. “Here, here, take her. She’s yours, whenever you want her.” A little spark darted between the gem and Cadence’s hoof, stinging her, but not unpleasantly. She could sense a deep pool of energy contained within; dormant, calm, and filled with potential love. “Aunty, what did you do?” Cadence demanded. “Nothing! I just contained one of the potential alicorn foals for you, so you can have her. She’s yours.” Iridia beamed and patted the gem with a wing tenderly. “Think of it as a late birthday present. One for each of the thousand and twenty three I missed.” Cadence could do little more than stare aghast at her aunt. “You can’t just give a soul to me!” “Sure I can.” Blinking a few times, Iridia frowned and again tapped the gem. “I am the Goddess of Life, and this life I entrust to you.” “But—” “I can’t take her back now anyways. She’s separated from the Font.” All Cadence’s potential arguments sputtered in her throat, leaving her mouth flapping uselessly while Iridia started to stagger to the chariot. Cadence was very good at knowing when a pony was lying, especially to somepony they loved. With the effect Iridia was having on Love, it was instantly apparent that Iridia believed that she couldn’t take the soul back. Hopping up into the Chariot, Iridia called for Cadence to hurry. “Maybe I should catch the others!” Iridia exclaimed, her wings shooting out and face beaming at the idea. “Then I can give one to Celestia and maybe she’ll finally forgive all the horrible things I said and did to her and Luna.” Cadence was about to very firmly tell Iridia to do no such thing, that it could only make matters worse. She didn’t get the chance as Celestia appeared around the couch house’s side, her long stride carrying her swiftly across the palace grounds. “Give me one what?” she asked as she slowed, seeming not to notice the stares leveled on her by everypony present. Over the last thousand years, Cadence had seen her beloved aunt in many different states; composed, wrathful, sad, happy, and all points between. Never had she seen Celestia so… vivid. Celestia carried a slight, amused upturn at the corner of her mouth, and her eyes and wings were heavy with fatigue, but for all that, she radiated warmth, peace, and joy. The flames that puffed up from Celestia’s shoulders and the tips of her wings certainly helped. Though, it was offset just a little by the long, angry line of a healing gash running from above Celestia’s left eye, across her brow, then curving down to her jaw. “Nevermind Iridia, Aunty, what happened to you?” Cadence stepped quickly up to Celestia, inspecting the cut in greater detail. It was deep, or had been, and given that it wasn’t fully healed was either recent or magical in nature. “This? I was a little careless is all.” “But, you’re on fire!” Wearing her most reassuring smile, Celestia touched Cadence’s chin with a wing, and said, “It’s a little side-effect and will pass. I have never been better in my entire existence. What about you? I thought you’d be with Tyr and Shining.” “I decided to seek help as well, so I went to speak with Abaddon.” Popping up beside Cadence, Iridia exclaimed, “Oh! A story! It will have to wait though. There are foals to give, and Cadence is taking me on a trip.” She leaned closer to Celestia, and in an altogether carrying stage-whisper, said, “And if you find some nice stallion to spend a relaxing evening with, I just may have a surprise for you as well.” Iridia’s gaze swung over to the stoic guards at the chariot and gave them a vivacious wink. Tensing, Cadence waited for Celestia to respond, while Iridia peeled herself away once more and began wandering in a wide circle, taking a hop every third step. For their part, the guards knew to remain detached and deaf to the goings-on just a few strides away. Nothing came from Celestia, except a slight, disapproving click of the tongue. Instead of the expected, simmering anger that accompanied any reminder of foals, Celestia shook her head slowly before trying to guide Iridia back to the chariot’s seat. “Happier days,” Celestia hummed to herself. “I had almost forgotten what you were like in the season. Trapped in stone for fifteen hundred years, and you haven’t changed at all, Iridia.” “Sure I have,” Iridia pouted and playfully patted Celestia with a wing on the nose. “I forgave myself for failing to protect my daughter. There are amends to make still. To you and Lulu, to my sister when she decides to come home, and to… to… No, no, no. That is no good. Hippogriffs have griffon souls, not those of a pony.”   Unsure what she should do, and confused by the calm Celestia continued to display, Cadence just watched as Iridia once again freed herself and made a straight line for the guards. By all reckoning, there should have been a shouting match between Celestia and Iridia. Under normal circumstances they could barely be in the same room for a few minutes before Celestia’s Love began to knot and she’d grow terse. Whatever had happened to Celestia, her emotions were far more stable than Cadence had ever known before. “I’m surprised you thought that bringing the Goddess of Fertility and Life to a house filled with young, eligible mares and stallions, not to mention a few foals, was a good idea,” Celestia chided softly.   “Well, I can’t leave her here alone,” Cadence tilted her head to where Iridia was leaning down to proposition the guards hitched to the chariot. “Not when she’s like this. Do you have a better idea?”             Pondering the question for a moment, Celestia replied, “Well, we could return her to Thornhaven. But the odds of her co-operating are… poor. Your idea is the best. We’ll just have to have all the stallions put up in the Sparkle’s guest manor.” Relieved that Celestia actually agreed with one of her plans for a change, Cadence turned back just in time to see Iridia gathering her magic to form another of the crystals. Knowing what Iridia was about, Cadence shouted, “No!” as she jumped forward to slap her hoof against her great aunt’s horn, interrupting the magic. Crying out, Iridia fell onto her rump, hooves clutching her head. “Ow, that hurt,” Iridia said between hissing intakes of breath. “I was just trying to give Tia a present.” “It’s not one for you to give,” Cadence huffed as she helped Iridia up. Celestia didn’t contain her surprise, a questioning look fixed on Cadence. “I’ll explain later,” Cadence sighed as she, at last, got Iridia into the chariot, Celestia stepping up alongside, wings extended to fly in escort. Accepting the delay, Celestia nodded to the guards and the chariot rumbled down the yard then up into the sky. Kicking her hooves, Celestia joined them, while Cadence found herself having to hold onto Iridia, lest her great aunt fall from the chariot for leaning too far over the side. Banking once around the castle, the chariot headed towards the east.   Head pressed against the sill of her open window, Tyr watched the courtyard. Down below, a crowd had gathered. Ponies from the nearby village and the surrounding area congregated in a growing cluster near where many of the Sparkles stood in a few, loose groups. Several hours had passed since Velvet and Luna charged off in search of Star, leaving the rest of the manor to find some purpose. Pennant paced in front of the manor, her mane tied back in a tight, naval knot, and her fresh lieutenant's uniform hastily thrown on. Every turn was accompanied by a check of her heavy boarding sabre and a glance towards the horizon. Every now and then she huffed and drew to a sharp stop off to the side, remaining there several minutes before starting all over again. A short distance away, Tyr’s remaining foster grandmothers fretted. Whisper did her best to comfort a frantic Glitterdust, but it was clear from the tension in her own withers, it was a role she was unused to providing. “She’s my baby,” Glitterdust half sobbed and half growled into Whisper’s neck. “I should have been the one…” Whisper smoothed down Glitterdust’s mane with a hoof and made a comforting noise in her throat. “Hush, love, hush, there is nothing to be done now but trust in Vel.” “I’m a terrible mother! I should have noticed she was missing this morning. I should have… I should have… This is all my fault. If anything…” The rest of Glittedust’s words were lost as she hiccuped and buried her face deeper into Whisper. Hoof brushing down Glitterdust’s mane, Whisper let her presence speak the words that wanted to be formed, but got lost somewhere in her throat. Her eyes darted left to right as if she was reading a book, one that held everything she wished she could say or be, but could never muster the strength to voice. That she was outside among all the guards and staff—to say nothing of curious ponies coming up from the village—was in itself a miracle. Then again, perhaps not. Tyr had only known her foster family a short while. In the brief time, she’d come to realise what everypony else already knew; Glitterdust alone could break Whisper out of her shell. There were currents of tension that flowed through the room whenever Whisper was without her younger wife’s presence. Not that it was necessary. Velvet certainly wasn’t the type to coax Whisper from her shell. As for the younger Sparkles, Whisper carried a conflicted air, ready with a biting reproach, but shying away from happiness. A thin smile grew as Tyr’s gaze shifted to where the stallions stood a little separated from the rest of the commotion, the household mares—Sparkles, staff, and guards alike—naturally forming a shield between them and the crowd. Mr. Cane and miss Darning moved about serving frozen sherbet, their own gazes darting occasionally up to Tyr or the next set of windows over where the twins sat, also staring down at the crowd. It would have rankled Shining to know that he was being protected by the servants and even his sisters. Unaware, Shining conferred with his father and the captain of the Lunar guard, his own eyes fixed on the horizon and jaw set. He was so much like Velvet in his protective drive, but softer, more approachable thanks to Glitterdust. Of Whisper’s reserve, there was nothing. In so many aspects he was just like Tyr’s true father; Apollo, God of Duty, Protection, and Guardians. She could see him in the flowing wave of Shining’s mane as it was caressed by the breeze and the flash of determination in the cores of his blue eyes. Had he possessed wings, the image would have been complete.   Slowly, Tyr’s smile melted into a frown. It had been days—no, weeks—since she’d last thought of her father. Often, it didn’t seem like he was really gone. Shining embodied him so perfectly. Too perfectly, if Tyr was being honest. All he lacked was the natural wildness of an alicorn when they unfurled all their might, the ground trembling as he passed. Not for the first time, Tyr suspected the hoof of the Moirai involved in all that happened. From the war that decimated so much of Gaea to Tyr’s banishment and fostering, the hags had to not only have known, but manipulated events. She wondered if Star’s disappearance was also part of their design. Though, what advantage or need the Fates had in having a filly go missing stumped Tyr. There was nothing Tyr could do about the Moirai even if they were somehow involved. They were the Fates, and everypony from her old home knew it was best to avoid the trio. Shaking off the worries, she returned her attention to the ponies out her window.   In his best smoking vest, unlit pipe clenched between his teeth, Comet watched the gathering ponies with thinly veiled dislike. “Vultures,” he’d muttered, just as he had when the first had shown up. “Looking to curry any sort of favour from the House. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t give a whit for my Star or her safety. Tartarus damn the lot.” “It’s not like any of us are helping either, father,” Two-Step shrugged and shuffled his hooves a little. “Mother and the princess…” “I’m well aware they’ll find Star. I wish she wouldn’t cast us aside as if we were useless. Just like her to rush off half-loaded.” He stamped a hoof and shifted his pipe to the other side of his mouth. “This is the Summer Solstice all over again. Or Belladonna. At least this time there is no pony for her to duel.” Next to them, Shining winced and gave his father a sour frown. “Mother is not that bad.” “I don’t know Shiny, you have to admit that she has a penchant to act before thinking,” Two-Step said.   A carriage trundling up the lane cut off any response. Shining and Tyr wore identical frowns as the carriage drew to a stop. By the time Blessed Harmony and her acolytes climbed out, she was releasing a protracted groan, chin resting on folded hooves. With quick, determined steps Blessed went to Whisper and Glitterdust and wrapped both mares in a strangling hug. While Whisper stiffened as if she’d just stepped on the tail of a snake, Glitterdust returned the hug in full force. Releasing them, Blessed said in a strong, carrying voice, “Do not fear, the Shepherd of the Night and Lady Sparkle will find the wayward filly. Have faith!” She then said something to Whisper that Tyr couldn’t hear. The meaning behind the words became plain when Whisper and Blessed lead Glitterdust inside the manor and up to the master bedroom.   Tyr’s ear flicked to her door as the heavy tread of hooves passed. A few muffled voices babbled unintelligibly through the wood before the sounds retreated. A few minutes tumbled along, little of interest happening in the courtyard beyond Comet attempting to argue with one of the younger acolytes about something. Uninterested, Tyr didn’t care to listen, letting all the conversations merge into a single, low babble of noise. Sneezing, Tyr decided to abandon the window sill. There would be no mistaking when Velvet and Luna returned with Star, and neither would be happy that she’d been hanging her head out the window. If not for all the ponies being more worried about Star than herself, Tyr was certain somepony would have told her off about catching a chill, or some other nonsense. The windows had just given a satisfied click as they were shut when a knock sounded from her door. Certain who’d be on the other side, Tyr hopped back into bed before calling out, “Enter.” “My, my, that is a comfy fort you’ve made for yourself,” Blessed said as she stepped into the room and gently closed the door behind her.   “You shouldn’t be here,” Tyr stated, though she was more curious than reproachful in her tone. She’d seen the Revered Speaker before, during Twilight’s presentation ceremony, though they hadn’t spoken. Everypony did remarkably well in keeping Tyr away from the various priestesses. It wasn’t hard to detect the dislike within the two families for the sisterhood. The root cause was another matter, and one Tyr had little interest in pursuing, if she was being honest. She’d thought about sneaking away to Notra-Dame de la Chanson—Our Lady of Song—to see if petitioning the Namegiver would help her find her own domain and mark. Word of a ritual used to commune with the goddess had reached Tyr’s ear shortly after her fostering. The idea of communicating with an unknown goddess that claimed to be a Fate, in one of her own temples, didn’t sit well with Tyr, and the idea had been abandoned. Then there was the simple fact that it was near impossible to escape the constant eyes watching her every move. By the time the guards and her foster family had begun to relax their vigil, Tyr had been half-way towards Sparkledale. “I was ordered to come. My assistance will be necessary soon. But, I get ahead of myself.” Blessed wore a very familiar expression, stoic resolve flowing from every movement and glance. Sometimes, Tyr wondered if priestesses were allowed to show anything other than a quiet severity. It was a look that made her missing wings itch with longing for her lost home. “But, where are my manners? My name is Blessed Harmony,” she said as she took Velvet’s usual seat at the bedside. “I know.” It took Tyr a few moments to remember that it was polite to respond in kind. By the time her words began to form, however, Blessed was already speaking again. “Well, I wanted to get to know you a little. Now, I know you are not what Cadence and everypony else claim. Or rather, their story is a half-truth, at best. Your real parents never met the Heartbinder nor her current husband, for instance. Nor did they die in some shipwreck off the Crystal Coast.” Tyr wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be impressed or afraid. She settled on merely annoyed at having painful memories dredged up. “My parents are dead. What does it matter as to how?” Tyr spat the words out, but they felt wrong in her mouth. The ‘How’ was important. It was of paramount importance, because her father had been killed, and the pony responsible remained free and unpunished. And her real mother’s fate was entirely unknown. Maybe. There was the whole top of the mountain being pummeled by a hundred falling stars. Tyr had watched them screaming through the night as they were wrenched from their homes. She’d felt the magic involved as she’d huddled on Artemis’ back, her cousin launching a stream of silver arrows from her bow at the onrushing hordes of Ares’ armies. Ares himself had been somewhere nearby in the Citadel as it was razed. Tyr had been captured at one point, and had been rescued only a few moments earlier by Artemis and her champion, the halla prince Lepidus. Tyr wondered if anypony in the Citadel had survived the cataclysm visited upon it that night. It could take centuries, or even a millennium, but Tyr was certain she’d find the truth someday, and if those responsible were still at large… She twisted the edge of her covers as a wave of searing anger spread down her legs and into her hooves. Anger that evaporated as Blessed pushed herself up in her chair with slow laughter. “Ah, to be young, in heart and body, if not in the number of years.” Blessed hummed with a little, sad crinkle in the corners of her eyes. “The Weave shows that the ‘Why’ is often as important as the ‘What’ and ‘How’ events transpire. Intention shapes us all, but it will shape you all the more.” “What do you mean?” Blessed was slow to respond, picking her words with great care. “Your arrival was… unexpected. The Namegiver gave no forewarning to the sisterhood of your coming, or what role you would play in the world. It surprised me a little, I admit, as she has always at least kept the Revered Speakers apprised of events that will affect Her little ponies. We often have no role to play in these events beyond keeping the calm and providing a gentle point of normalcy. All the sisters felt your Fostering as Celestia commanded Her to bind your essence into a mortal coil.” Taking a pause to help straighten some of Tyr’s covers, Blessed hummed a few bars of a song before continuing. “There are two that will be Fostered in the spring, with preparations already underway.” “If Celestia does the ritual, why do you have to prepare?” Tyr wondered aloud.  “The act of fostering an alicorn puts a strain on the Weave, and as Her servants, it is the duty of the sisterhood to correct any damage She cannot see to Herself,” Blessed explained with a patience born of having answered the question many times. “Fostering bends and warps the Weave in order to protect the recipient. Ponies are moved, their paths altered to create a… safe corridor, of sorts. To my knowledge, Luna strained her fostering to the very limits, almost breaking the Weave a few times.” Tyr grimaced at the thought of risking the Weave so casually. Then another thought blossomed; if Faust was the goddess responsible for tending to the Weave, then she was one of the Lost Alicorns. She wracked her memories for the scraps she’d gleaned on the Lost Alicorns. There was very little, the subject a sore one among the remaining original gods. Of what she did know, when coupled with Faust as the Namegiver and tender of the weave, meant Faust had to be the missing Goddess of Harmony. While, technically, not one of the Moirai, the Goddess of Harmony was supposed to work with the troublesome trio to maintain the flow of history. A spell that could alter the weave at all was dangerous. The idea that it was the Goddess of Harmony responsible for the spell made Tyr’s head spin and stomach lurch. Tension flooded down her legs and into her hooves so she twisted her covers into a knot. Even more troubling, it meant that the Revered Speaker was a Seer. No wonder everypony gave her such a wide berth; much like dealing with the Moirai, it was a task of fools and the desperate to consort with a seer, and hope for an honest answer. “Are you okay, deary?” “No,” Tyr answered truthfully, her grip slow to relax. “Do you know if I get my vengeance?” Blessed tilted her head and gave a little ‘tut-tut’. “Revenge, is it? That’s not good. Not from you, of all ponies.” “Why? Why shouldn’t I have vengeance? Achlys, Ares, Hades, or even Hera herself; I don’t care! They, and so many others, are responsible for my parents' deaths, and I will see them suffer for their crimes as I have suffered.” Tyr breathed heavily following her short tirade. The shame she felt for blurting out the dreadful names was far less than the rage making her entire body shake. “You’ll understand soon enough, I think.” Blessed reached over and patted Tyr on the back. The priestess’ touch was like ice, dousing Tyr’s anger so that not even sizzling embers remained. Wobbling a little at the suddenness of the shift, Tyr groggily looked up at Blessed. “What…? How did you do that?” “A little trick the Namegiver showed me, nothing more.” Blessed gave a mischievous wink and started to pull back the layers of covers. “Princess Luna and Baroness Velvet have returned,” she said just as a commotion rose from the courtyard. “Come, let’s go greet them together.” “What is your game?” Tyr asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in her tone and eyes as she wriggled out from beneath the wonderful warmth of her quilts. The late spring air dripped liked melting ice on her withers, making her shiver and sniff.       “No ‘game’, beyond the one the Namegiver makes us all play.” Harumphing, Tyr bundled one of the lighter covers over her back, giving her the appearance of a miniature, purple spotted glacier. Scootching along so as to keep as much warmth as possible within the cover’s folds, and because it was fun, she made her way out into the hallway. Part of her wanted to make little train noises, but that was far too undignified for a goddess and had to be the fever affecting her mind. It certainly wasn’t caused by the relief unknotting her stomach at hearing Luna and Velvet were back with Star, which meant the filly had to be okay.   Her relief was short lived as she was led, not towards Star’s room just down to the left, but instead to the master suites. She hesitated at the threshold, some sense of intruding on a sacred domain pinning her to the spot. Through the doorway, she could see Velvet slumped in a lounge. Dirt clung to her coat and her mane hung in tangled strands, giving her a haggard, weary air further heightened by the guilt in her eyes. Chin on the legrest, Velvet reached over to stroke Star’s mane, the filly laying close to the edge of the large bed. Glitterdust lay beside her daughter humming an old lullaby. Other members of the family stood along the walls or hovered near the bed’s edges. To one side Luna conversed with the town’s doctor, the stallion frozen in the process of either taking off or putting his hat back on. “Your services are hardly necessary, doctor,” Luna said, indicating the door with a wing. “Baroness Sparkle has already tended to her physical harm, and there is little medicine or magic can do for Star’s spirit. The rest is up to the filly. Poking her with your spells or bleeding her will accomplish nothing.” “Bleeding her? This is not the dark times of the Classical Period, Madam! Next, you’ll suggest her humours are out of balance—” “They are.” “—and… what?” “They are out of balance.” A mischievous glimmer flitted behind Luna’s eyes. “But it is nothing some hollyhock and mugwort won’t fix. In the meantime, why don’t you rest in the gardens with the rest of the gawkers from the village. I hear that lunch is to be provided, as well as some little cakes. This, however, is now a matter for family. If your services are required, rest assured, you will be summoned at once.”     Grumbling at being so summarily dismissed, the doctor shoved his hat on his head and trotted out of the room with nostrils flared and tail snapping. As he passed Tyr and the Revered Speaker he performed a little nod of the head by way of greeting, but didn’t slow. “Your Divine Highness.” Blessed performed a deep bow to Luna on entering the room. “It is good to see you found Miss Sparkle.” To which Luna responded with, “Revered Speaker Harmony, it is a pleasure to see you out of Canterlot. I take your presence to mean mother is up to her games again.” Though the words themselves could be construed as almost pleasant, never had Tyr heard a phrase given such an undercurrent of threat and dislike. The only parallel she could draw were the stories she had heard of audiences with an angered Hemera.  With a pleasant laugh, Blessed shrugged off Luna’s comment. “The Namegiver is always playing the game, ma’am. I am just one of her pawns, moving as She requires.” Luna nearly said more, but was drawn away by a long, hacking cough from Tyr. The filly’s entire body shook with the force of the coughs, each leaving her weakened and dizzy, stomach churning as though she were about the retch. Every head in the room swung towards her, some frowning at the disturbance, but most etched with concern. At once Luna was at her side, a wing draped over her. She rubbed Tyr’s back in a slow, circular motion until the coughing subsided. Wheezing and swallowing some of the bile collecting in her mouth, it was several minutes before the room stopped spinning.   “It’s getting worse,” Luna said to herself while helping Tyr onto a narrow bench usually used for putting on shoes. “Mother, if you are doing this on purpose, when I get my hooves on you…” Behind her foster grand-mother’s eyes, Tyr traced the patterns of ancient, simmering anger. Silent guesses haunted her own heart. She wondered if the chief goddess of Ioka was punishing her for coming to the disc unannounced, seeing her as a thief flitting in through a window to steal a noble daughter’s jewels. The alicorns of Gaea would not have permitted such tresspasses. They would have razed mountains and sunk islands into the sea to warn the interloper. That the Namegiver wasn’t so different from the family Tyr had known was something of a comfort, and it made her smile in spite of her growing illness. All was as it should be. Ioka had its oddities in Celestia, Luna, Cadence, and Twilight; but those four could be dismissed as exceptions brought about by the absence of true godly influence. They had few rivals for the devotion of the masses. Nothing compared to the dozens of greater gods, hundreds of intermediaries, and the innumerable lesser entities that served them, covering Gaea with their squabbles and wars. Velvet’s tale of waking the Queen in Stone only further comforted her. To Tyr, it was the most normal of things. The sisters, Iridia and Faust, had broken into a feud, ending with Iridia sealed by some great curse. It was very similar to the snippets Tyr had learned of Nightmare Moon and reminded her so much of the her family’s own feuds.   She mentioned none of this, of course. Instead she smiled once she was able and asked after Star. “She is… unwell.” Luna clicked her tongue, then abandoned whatever thoughts she’d been turning over with a slight roll of her wings. “In truth, she should be dead, but a thane took pity on her.”   “A thane?” gasped the twins and Two-Step, all three looking at Velvet with awe. “What’s a thane?” Adamant asked Spike, the latter shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. “Nothing little colts need to learn about,” Glitterdust responded before anypony could explain. She shot warning glances to Velvet, Luna, and Whisper. Her head a little foggy, the nature of the warning found no purchase, and Tyr said, “They guide the dead to one of the five Rivers of Souls to be taken to Tartarus or Elysium. I never cared much for thanes. There have been incidents on Gaea where they grant favours to mortals and cause all sorts of chaos, instead of just doing their job. Grandmother Sparkle has accrued many such favours, I think.” Tyr stifled a little giggle. “I get that feeling from the way she talks of her past. She dwells too much on the bad though. Her guilt is very heavy.” Luna watched her from the corner of her eye, while Blessed merely nodded in silence. “You can sense this?” “I… I just get that feeling from her, especially when she talks about her friends,” Tyr mumbled and shrank a little into her quilts. “But, she is Spring’s champion. It is no wonder she has been surrounded by great deeds and death. That is always a champion’s fate.” “I am not a champion.” Velvet snorted and snapped her tail, scattering loose dirt and a few clumps of clay mud. “I am the Sorceress.” A light laugh rolled from Blessed, the Revered Speaker rocking back in her place with growing mirth. “It is possible to be both, you know. Clover the Clever was the Sorceress of her time, as well as the Element of Magic. Before her there was Marelin the Forgotten—not to be confused with the much more well known Marelin—who served as the Element of Wisdom in addition to being an Arch-Wizard, the founder of memoramancy, and being an accomplished summoner. In effect, she too was ‘the’ sorceress.   “And why do you think you can’t be a champion just because you carry another title as well?” “Champions are heroes. They sacrifice to save other ponies without thought of themselves. I was a villain.” Velvet patiently explained, much to the chagrin of most present. While all the younger Sparkles were ready to defend their mother, it was Luna who snorted loudest. “Ha! If that were true the disc would be a far different place.” Luna slashed a wing for added emphasis. “I know some of your past, and a villain would not have woken Iridia. Rather, she would have sought to steal the queen’s power; to her own downfall.” Velvet made a sour face, and snapped, “Then you are a fool, Your Highness.” She did not soften or apologize at the striking silence that followed her declaration, nor the stares leveled on her by every pony present. “No, I merely set the bar higher than pettiness and self-indulgence,” Luna retorted. She seemed to grow larger in her corner of the room. Tyr trembled, having seen truly angry gods many a time. Experience told her Luna was on the tipping edge. “I need not hear the rest of your story to know there is nothing in it that will dispute these facts; it was you who awoke Iridia, and you shook the disc to make it happen. How many died? A thousand? Ten thousand? Perhaps a hundred thousand? With Faust knows what else was destroyed in the process. Pah, that is paltry. Remember with whom you speak. When I was a filly, poets would have written epics in thy name, monuments built to carry the glory of thine actions through the ages. Queens would vie to marry their line to thine own in hopes of adding either power or prestige to their lineage. Armies would be heaped at thy hooves to be led in wars and battles to reclaim the western reaches. You, through strength of hoof and heart, freed a goddess from a curse leveled by another goddess. A villain; it is thou who hast no claim to such a title.” Tyr was certain that at any moment Selene’s power would strike the manor and reduce it, and everything for a league, into dust. Through where she leaned up against Luna, she could feel the building pressure of divine wrath eager to be released. It crackled, making her skin crawl and mane stand on end. “But, did you murder your best friend in cold blood? Can you hear her final words every evening you lay your head to go to sleep? And each time, does a knife of guilt twist deeper into your heart because you would do it again?” “Yes.” The reply, so simple, carried a weight formed and nurtured over centuries. “There are aspects of my past not mentioned in the Book of Selene. Things kept hidden from Celestia. Even mother, for all her sight, does not know everything.”   “Is that even possible?” Elegant whispered to Melody a little too loudly, and drawing a hissing rebuke from her sister. Without a pause for the slight interruption, Luna continued, “If you are so certain we will think you a villain, then, by all means, finish your story. Do not be surprised when I find it lacking. Remember, I have been a true villain.” Velvet chewed on her lip a little, gaze darting around the room to her family one by one. “It is not a part of my story I think appropriate for foals.” A deafening chorus of protests burst forth at this statement. Velvet waved the children down, and pointedly said, “But it is better to hear it from me than second hoof. Should it be too much, I will end it, however. This is me when I was at my worst. So… Where was I? Yes… Yggdrasil.”   Located in the furthest reaches of the north, beyond any lands that could be considered suitable for civilization, deep in the heart of the glacial cap that forms along the leading edge of the disc, sits one of the most marvelous wonders Ioka possesses. An oasis of life in the desolate cold, the First Vale hides a wealth of beauty and magic from the rest of the disc. It is not a place meant for ponies. Through a layer of vines, the white of the glacier walls could just barely be seen. Northern rocs nested within the ice, the giant birds peering out over the vale with their ebony eyes. Trees of every sort clung close to each other, creating a dense copse that constricted movement to a few paths, all of which lead to the vale’s heart. I saw oranges in bloom next to pineapple and agave plants, their trunks surrounded by fern and grass, roses blooming amid tulips and sunflowers. And there, sitting atop a slight hillock, was the First Tree. A craggly ancient thing, long, willow stems dangled from a canopy of broad, three pointed leaves. As the summer was growing late, fruits the colour and sheen of polished gold clung to the branches beneath blossoms of crystal bells. Chiming music lifted from the tree at the slightest sway or touch of the warm breeze swirling about the vale. Beneath the tree stood Sombra at a rocky altar, his eyes closed and magic dancing around his horn. With him were the survivors of Juniper’s grove, the dryads swaying from side to side as they listened to a song only they could hear. At my approach the dryads broke out of their trance, and turned to face me and Sylph.   “You should not be here,” Sombra said not looking up from his work. “This is a holy place.” “Yet, you may profane it for your own ends?” I snarled, digging my hooves into the soft, loamy earth and drawing Llallawynn. He let out a snort and the dryads cringed and shrunk away from us. “I mean to protect this place, and by extension the entire disc, from your madness, Velvet Sparkle.” Sylph shook her head, and sighed. “It is not madness, it is necessary. The halla are dying—” “A battle of their own choosing, dear heart.” Sombra cut her off with a stamp of a hoof. “We both tried to steer them away from this outcome. But she,” he thrust a hoof at me, “needed her army to clear a path. It is on her hooves their blood rests, not ours!” Sadness creasing the corner of her eyes, Sylph said, “You know I am not speaking of the battle, but of my race as a whole. Without our queen we wither, like the vine in a drought. Our roots parched of life, few and fewer healthy fawns are born each year. Once the Eternal Herd numbered in the millions, now we claim but a few holdings. Every gathering fewer herds appear, swallowed by the taiga. Entire lodges have vanished. If not for my fellow Foxes none would know of the proud Orca, who ventured to far off lands to trade, or the cunning Coyote that acted as ambassadors to nations as distant as Neighpon. Even the Wolverine, who maul and maim the monsters in their lairs, are all but extinct now when they are most needed.” “You put far too much faith in legend and song.” Sombra snapped his tail and shifted his stance a little into a more dominant pose. “I knew your Queen when she was still flesh, and while I agree the disc requires her continued existence, it does not require her freedom. She will not help you or the halla. And, she will never deign to heal a half-pony.” He turned to me with a fierce snarl. “Unicornkind will be doomed if she is released.”   I thrust an accusatory hoof at Sombra. “Was it not you who caused all unicorns to lose our very dreams? Was it not you who unleashed the curse that killed how many fawns? The only evil here is you!” He stood silent for some time after my accusations, face impassive and cold. Eventually he let out a slow breath and nodded. “You are not wrong. Nor do you go far enough. The atrocities I committed in my youthful folly would make even your blood run cold. But, here? Now? I have looked into the mirror, and I have seen the monster therein, and I swore to atone. From here, I will return dreams to the unicorns. I will keep the vale safe. And the mad tyrant will continue to sleep.” Sombra set his head high and stared down on me with blazing certainty. “The Queen must remain in stone.” He thumped a hoof to his chest. “As I have done in the past, I will protect what she once represented, not what she became. It is my penance; mine! Just as to be trapped within stone is hers.” “No, Sombra, she needs to be freed.” Sylph moved up a few steps so she was in front me. “The Halla need their queen. We are withering away without her. How many generations until we are gone for good? She has sent to us a White Hind, and only through freeing her may the fawn be saved. Perhaps that was her intent all along, or perhaps not. I can not say. What I do know is that the age of her imprisonment must come to a close and Spring must bloom.” She took a few steps closer, Sombra shying back an equal measure. He pressed his ears back and frowned, unable to look her in the eye. “What is more; Namyra must be released.” “You’ll die.” He stated in a tired voice. “You saved me. You brought me back to this world. Made me care about more than just myself and being a ghost on the fringes of history. I can not repay this debt with your death. We will find another way to free her.” Tears verged on the edges of her eyes, and she said in a very tired voice, “Would you doom her to be our slave? You may be able to accept eternity at the cost of a single foal, but I can not. You must let her go.” “It is not her I can’t give up. It is you!” Sombra shouted back at Sylph. “To free her, you must die, and I can not lose you. If it was my life alone to sacrifice, I would do so. But you are innocent!”   Rolling my eyes, I let out a little, annoyed whiny. “Namyra; I don’t care one iota about her. I came to get a cutting from the tree, and I shall do so now.” I reached for the Golden Shears in Sylph’s saddlebags. Almost at once, my magic was subsumed by Sombra’s own, snuffed out like a candle with no air. “Are you truly so naive?” He shook his head and moved around the altar. “The Queen is cunning and old. She’s been manipulating you for years, and look at the twisted thing you are so close to becoming, if you have not already. Wake her and all ponies will suffer. Take your daughter to Equestria. Settle on the distant southern shores where the winters are mild and she will live without need of a tyrant’s blessing.” “Velvet, I think it best if you back away,” Sylph said over her withers to me before refocusing on Sombra. I stared at Sylph’s back, hearing what was said, but not caring for the words. No goodness remained in my heart. At what point the change came I can not say, but all I could see looking at Sylph was an obstacle. Worse, what I saw and heard told my twisted mind that she had become a threat. My best friend was something in my path that needed removing. And there was only one way I knew how to remove an impediment to my goal. For years I’ve tried to understand what leaps and bounds my logic took to reach the conclusions it settled upon. There was much I could have done. I could have stunned her, put her to sleep, or summoned chains to bind her to the spot. Or, I could have simply waited. She was on my side, arguing for the all that I wanted. But, I had no patience when my prize was so close at hoof. There were dozens of options open to me, but only one that I could see.   The only conclusion I have been able to reach is that I am a bad pony at my core. Honesty, Laughter, Generosity, Kindness, and most certainly, Loyalty; these were things I entertain only when convenient. The moment they conflict with my own goals I still cast them aside. On that occasion, I was deep within the Dark Runes’ thrall, and there wasn’t a sliver of harmony left in my heart. A flick of my magic and it was done. Llallawynn pierced Sylph through the back. The point burst from just beneath her collar. Crimson sprayed across Sombra’s face. She fell. Tumbled into Sombra’s hooves. To my unending disgust and shame, I thought what I’d done was what she wanted.  Sombra collapsed with her, holding her tight, disbelief twisting his features. “No,” he whispered, over and over. His hooves sought to stem the flood pouring over his legs. Magic flickered around the wound, but there was no pony nor spell that could counter Llallawynn’s work. “No!” Sombra shouted, renewing his efforts, to no added effect.   It was impossible. Even the most potent of the ancients’ healing magics would not have been able to undo what I’d done. “Take her… Take her… Take her and set her free. Undo the dreamer’s prison, old one.” Sylph’s gripped Sombra’s hoof tight, and turned just enough to look back at me. “I forgive you, my friend.” I stared, impassive, as the light left her eyes. “You murdered your friend?” Tyr yelled, her hooves tight as they gripped the legrest of the chaise she shared with Luna. The appalled expressions on everypony did little to stop the tired laugh that broke from Velvet. She shook her head slowly, muttering under her breath something in halla, and then looked up at Tyr with a hard light in her eyes. “Yes, I did.” There was such cold simplicity in the admission that it chilled Tyr. “How could you?” Star moved away from Velvet, pressing herself closer to Glitterdust. “I don’t understand.” “Sweetheart, I was a very wicked pony back then.” Velvet pointedly looked at her family and guests. “I only ever felt anything when something I thought was mine was in danger of being taken. The moment I thought she was an impediment, all my compassion vanished. Even now… there is a certain ruthlessness required to reach the position our House enjoys, and then to maintain that perch.” Velvet gave a long sigh and found her hoof taken by Whisper, her wife trying her best to smile comfortingly. “In raising you, I—we, hoped to do better, to allow you to be a better pony than us. Tartan had the necessary qualities, and Sateen…” Velvet’s voice trailed off and she winced, as did most of the family. Fresh tears sprang up in the twins eyes, while Glitterdust and Whisper both grew downcast. “Wait, why didn’t Sombra’s magic work?” Spike asked, raising a claw as though he were in class. “There have been other times in the story where ponies have been hurt and then healed with magic. I… just want to know.” Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Luna who explained. “Llallawynn’s edge carries magic that amplifies the intent of she who wields her, assuming her magic functions the same as when she were flesh. The very nature of a star is to grant wishes, and the more powerful the wish, the greater the effect. It is not surprising that such a wound, caused by such a betrayal, would have resisted Sombra. He also wasn’t very well versed in the school, at least when I knew him. “How long did it take you to understand what you’d done?” Luna asked thoughtfully, her eyes especially intense and scrutinizing. Velvet pinched her brow as she tried to remember the precise moment. Her eyes became unfocused, drifting back to the vale and that terrible moment she’d realised how low she’d truly fallen. When she spoke, she fell back into her story at once, but it wasn’t with the passion of before. It was slower, more careful, and tinged with immeasurable pain and self-loathing.   It was her eyes, and the forgiveness I did not deserve that faded along with her life. I stared into their glassy surface and saw my reflection. It was then I realised what I’d become. My hooves began to tremble and I fell back. Llallawynn slipped from my grasp, and never again would she answer my call. I’d betrayed everything, everypony. I was the villain, driven by selfish desires. In the beginning it had been about saving River. Not so at that moment, as I stood with my best friend’s blood pooling around my hooves. I could not even recall my daughter’s face or the sound of her bleating and even her name was some tattered memory I had to struggle to grasp.   When precisely the shift had happened I can not say. Was it when I gained my first taste of the Dark runes’ powers beneath Gamla Uppsala? Or when I stood in the arena and watched Juniper die? Could it have been when I tore Prince Selim’s soul to shreds and consumed the remnants? It was certainly long before we’d reached the Sunstone. Or were they all just steps along the same path? Even if the runes had guided me, they were not to blame. No more than a wolf can be blamed for catching a foolish pony in the woods who was not paying attention to her surroundings. There was no collapse, no cries of ‘what have I done’ or anything else of that nature. I took a deep breath and looked up at Sombra with defiance.   “No. No. No, no, no…” He rocked back and forth, holding Sylph’s head to his breast. Magic flickered between them, a little ghostly wisp flowing from her to him as he laid her down gently.  Sombra stiffened then rose up, wreathed in flames and smoke. Beneath his coat his skin glowed in a bed of fresh embers. Tears streaked down his face, burning bright as iron poured fresh from a forge. Wings sprouted from his back, dark and leathery with veins of brilliant gold, as his tail became thick and strong enough to crush the trunks of old growth trees. A bullwhip crack filled the vale at the snap of his tail and completion of his transformation.      “So,” he rumbled, twitching his new claws, “this is what it feels like to have what you love stolen from you.” Sombra sucked in a rattling breath and the scales of his breast glowed with his flame. “I too forgive you, Velvet. Never should I have allowed it to reach this point. I should have stopped you some time ago, but I’d hoped you were stronger. Strong enough to see what you were becoming and find a path home. “Yes, I forgive you, but I can not let you live. The evil you seek to spread will bring only misery. Once you are dead, we will seal the vale and the Dreamer will be released.” Turning his head just enough to the side, he said to the dryads cowering beneath the tree, “Guard Yggdrasil.” Cocksure and broken as I was, I merely grinned and quipped some idiotic thing like, ‘Try your best’ before I charged and summoned my magic. My charge faltered at once, my magic slipping off Llallawynn as if I were trying to hold smoke with my hooves.   Sombra chuckled and took an earth shaking step towards me. “Even Wynn rejects you.” He snarled and then let loose a gout of golden flame. I just had time to bring up my old, worn shield to ward off his flames. The poor thing saved me, but was utterly destroyed, bursting into fiery splinters as I stumbled back. Gritting my teeth, my gaze shifted from between Sombra and the First Tree, then back again. Weaponless and shieldless, I fell on every spell contained within my considerable repertoire.   But, there was no spell I possessed that could equal the behemoth Sombra had become. Even with the Dark Runes, none of my magic could harm his hardened scales. I tried it all. The crystal spear I’d summoned in Gamla Uppsala shattered upon his breast. My leaches scratched along his hide, unable to find a shred of life-energy to consume. A single sweep of one wing dispersed my ravens, and a crash of his taloned feet scattered my ursta into broken pebbles. All the while I dodged left and right to avoid the great thuds of his tail, or the slashes of his talons. But it was his flame I feared the most. Much of the vale was alight, the unimportant trees bursting into orange pillars like so much kindling. Around us, sap boiled in crackling snaps and pops. The air grew heavy and choking, and my eyes stung from the thick, black smoke. Again and again, I reached for Llallawynn, and again and again, the sword rejected my aura. In one, last, desperate bid, I reached, not for Llallawynn, but Sombra’s own discarded sabres. Both answered my call at once, flying from where they’d been dropped to my sides. With the blades close, I dashed ahead, using an already burning log as cover. Jumping over it, I slashed with the twin swords. Neither so much as scratched Sombra, and with a jarring backhoof slap he sent me tumbling. My head hit the ground hard, stars blinding me with their little bursting lights for a precious few moments. Towering over me, Sombra drew in his breath, chest expanding with a brilliant flame as the inferno within was stoked to new heights. I was moments from death. And then White appeared, emerging from the flame licked underbrush. She landed between Sombra and I, her nostrils flaring and magic bright about her antlers. A fireball shot like a cannon into the stream of flames Sombra spewed. The detonation split Sombra’s breath, protecting us within the eclipse. “I can not hold the dragon long,” White shouted back to me as she wreathed us in a protective sheet of plasma the same colour as her namesake. “Where did it even come from? Where are Sombra and Sylph? Shouldn’t they be here?” I didn’t bother answering. Searching the burnt landscape around us, I wracked my head for anything to use against Sombra. Any spell or weapon. The only thing that came to mind, absurdly so as we stared down death, was the off-hoof mention of a name some time before. The spell was relatively simple, all things considered.   It was merely a name coupled with a pull, much like I’d mastered with all my other summons, a single rune used as an anchor. A name that promised me the aid I required to defeat Sombra. A name I should not have uttered. “Abaddon!” I roared, planting my hooves. Sombra’s molten eyes widened, his mouth falling from a victorious grin into a grimace of surprise. For several moments we waited. And nothing happened. There was no lightning, no thunder without a storm, nothing to indicate that my call had been heard. “And so, the prophecy is proved false?” Sombra snarled, taking a step forward to lord above us. “Or, it was never about you at all. You committed such sins, Velvet the Betrayer; and for naught!” Incensed at the glee curling around Sombra’s words like viperous fangs, I closed my eyes and whispered, “Abaddon. Angel of Destruction, I call upon you. Come to me and wreak your wrath onto my enemy. I demand it, Abaddon!” Anywhere else on the disc and my call would have been utterly futile. Such was the nature of the First Vale that the boundaries between the disc and the other realms are thin and permeable. There alone my summons could be heard.   A sound like the rush of drums was the first indication my summons had been answered. At first, I thought they were only in my imagination, spurred by greedy need. They grew and swelled until the loose stones underneath our hooves bounced from the force of their reverberations. White and I took several long steps away from Sombra, while he looked about in fright. And then they were gone and all was silent. In the heartbeat following the drums’ disappearance there was a shattering peal of a horn. The ground split, tearing a gap through the vale and into the glacial walls, scattering the nesting rocs. Sulphurous gas snarled and hissed from the fissure, driving everypony back. Locusts, an endless swarm of locusts, each the size of a sparrow, buzzed between the bursts of gas, forming a cloud that snaked and spun through the vale before blotting out the sun. For a moment I believed that was the end, and I collapsed to my knees, when from the fissure came a howl, like the screams of a thousand bereaved mares. “What have you done?” Sombra slowly backed away from the fissure, and for the only time I saw him afraid. Truly afraid. A wing, mottled white and grey, stretched skyward trailing ropes of poisonous aether. It was joined by a second, then four more, unfurling as the howl repeated. Argali horns crested the rim, their curved spirals hung above long, tapered ears, a mane of dark blue curls dancing down a powerful neck. On and on she rose, until she towered above me, her three leonine tails snapping whips above the closing fissure. Through the swirling swarm of locusts, I caught only glimpses of Abaddon. She was terrible and beautiful to behold, a being of immense strength and age, her coat shone brighter than polished alabaster, broken only by a cloudy blue streak that flowed from her mane to her flanks. There, in a fading ruby glow, was a sigil constantly swirling, formed from runes no mortal eye could comprehend. Abaddon swept her gaze slowly across the vale, her shadow devouring me. If I stood on my hind hooves, my horn would have barely whispered through the fur on her chest. Her eyes of golden light bored into me, ignoring Sombra entirely, with a look so furious my legs trembled and I backed up a few steps. I had to snap my eyes shut and turn away. To look on her true form was to invite madness, and if not for the locusts sheathing her like a chittering veil, I would have been struck down by the mere sight of her. “You really summoned Aba—” Tyr clamped her mouth shut, eyes fearfully darting to the windows. “One of the Seraphim? That isn’t possible.” The rest of the room was more amused than surprised, with Shining beginning to teasingly chastise his daughter, only to be interrupted by Luna’s soft nicker of amazement. “It was you?” Luna stared in wonder. “You brought her to Ioka?” A long, disgusted snort broke from Tyr. “No, she didn’t! She couldn’t. I just said it isn’t possible. No mortal, nor god, could entice a seraph from Elysium. There is nothing capable of such a feat.” “Ah, but Abaddon wasn’t—” “Stop saying Her name!” Tyr hissed, again peering through the window as if expecting the seraph to appear. “If she is on the disc—which I don’t believe it is possible—but if she is, then she can hear you every time you say her name. She’ll know Luna and I are here, and…” Tyr gulped. “And?” Tyr shook her head vigorously. “Well, perhaps it is best if you let me continue the story. Then you might know why she answered.” Velvet let a cheeky little smile flit across her features before she took a deep breath. Abaddon swung her head slowly around, her expression gradually morphing into one that was calm and unconcerned, taking in all the destruction around her. I shivered as those golden eyes passed over me on their way to White, and then up to Sombra. The seraph stepped over me. A mere touch of her shadow was as if a hundred ponies were walking over my grave. I quivered, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw White prostrate herself in the scorched earth. Abaddon stopped just before Sombra. The old dragon’s sides heaved with ire and sparks puffed from his nostrils. She seemed to stare through him, and towards the tree at his back, an expression of utter serenity on her face. “If you mean to parley, archon, know that—” Quick as a viper, Abaddon struck the Dreamer’s Crystal with a wing. There was a flash, and the most tremendous bang imaginable. Light exploded from the crystal with such intensity that even though I clapped my hooves over my eyes at once, I was blinded and sent tumbling through the dirt and cinders for several yards.   When the blindness and ringing in my ears passed, I looked up to find Abaddon tending to the tree with gentle, nurturing hooves surrounded by the dryads. Running her hoof along damaged or burnt branches healed the wounds caused by my fight with Sombra. Sprigs of green blossomed into rainbow petals and the First Tree seemed to grow taller, prouder almost. Having not said a single word, Abaddon turned from the tree and then took to the air. She circled the vale once, the rocs hiding in their rookeries shrieking up at the stranger. Then she was gone, flying off to the south and east. I’ve kept track of her, worried about what my actions that day may have wrought; but she’s not moved from the jungles of the dark continent since taking residence within them. Putting Abaddon from my mind, at the time, I forced myself up on weary hooves, and along with White, made my way to where Sombra lay. He remained in his draconian form, the Dreamer’s Crystal pulsing in his chest like a second heart. Every beat of the crystal made Sombra shudder and suck in a sharp breath. I could hear his own heart, its own beats out of sync and fluttering. With claws that trembled with fleeting strength, he tried to pull himself closer to Sylph’s body. He only managed a few yards before collapsing entirely. “So, you win the day after all.” Sombra let out a dry, raspy laugh that turned into a cough. “You are indeed the Sorceress, and a pox upon this world. Do what you will… Just… bury Sylph in the old way. Don’t leave her to rot. Not here.” “I will see it is done,” White wore a weak smile that wavered with approaching tears, “for her sake. Sylph would appreciate it, I believe. Like one of her stories.” Sombra nodded, reached down to the crystal and with a sharp tug he wrenched it free. Then he too was gone, the crystal falling from his limp grasp. Weary beyond belief, I sagged and hobbled away from the dead dragon. From the tree, where they’d been hiding the entire fight, descended the dryads, Old Mima in front. She eyed me with concern, her entire body trembling more and more the closer she came. Only a few strides away, she threw herself onto the charred dirt. “Sorceress, we beg you, do not hurt the First Tree.” Frowning, I said nothing, merely retrieved the shears and limped past the frightened dryads, and to the tree’s base. A snip and it was done, a sprig no longer than my hoof floating down to my saddlebags. Their usefulness past, I discarded the Golden Shears and started to limp towards the vale’s exit. White emerged from the smoke, her posture as weary as my own. Yet for all the destruction around us, for all those who’d we’d lost that day, she smiled. “It is almost done. All we need do is reach Thornhaven and wake the queen, and the prophecy will be fulfilled. I hope all we have lost is worth her,” she said, but I heard the doubt in her voice. On reaching White a flicker of light caught my eye. Turning my head a little I spied the crystal that had given the ancient wizard so much of his power. Unsure if it’d be of use to me, my own magical reserves so low, I staggered over to it. Reaching down, I picked up the Dreamer’s Crystal, turning it over in my aura a few times before moving to place it in my saddlebags. A sharp jolt forced it from my grasp. I jumped back, my magic pulled into the crack where it seeped deeper into the crystal.   Smoke spilled from the crystal in a thick stream, pouring across the ground around our hooves like water from a broken dam. It collected between White and I, swirled, and lifted itself up. Condensing, the cloud took on the shape of a filly, the contours growing more defined and opaque until it was a spectre that stood on the burnt grass. She looked around, confused, until noticing White and I, at which point she seemed to smile. Her mouth moved, formed words, but there was no sound. Again she tried, but still she lacked a voice we could hear. So, Namyra did the simplest of things to convey her message, drifted over to me, and wrapped her small, translucent hooves around my neck. Her touch was not cold, as one would expect when dealing with a spirit, but warm. As warm as the sun on a field of blossoming flowers. I did not deserve her gratitude. My heart was fractured, and heavy with loss and exhaustion. Had my thoughts and body not been weighted so heavy with the fatigue of all the battles and death throughout the day, I would have collapsed on the spot with grief and guilt. We remained that way for a minute, perhaps more, until we both knew it was time for me to go. Smiling, Namyra pointed to the cliffs and the rocs in their nest. The great birds shielded their nests and glared down on us, their beaks clacking with unrestrained menace, and giant talons gripping the lip of their alcoves’ edges. At the wave of her hoof, one of the rocs jumped towards us, a single beat of her immense wings propelling her across the vale. Her landing was heavy, ruddy feathers ruffling as black eyes settling on me. Namyra gestured to the roc, and in spite of my many, many protests, White convinced me to clamber up onto the giant’s back. No sooner was I situated, my weary hooves gripping her strong neck as tight as I could manage, than she leapt up and the rush of cold wind ripped over my face and through my mane.   Looking back I saw Namyra’s shade dissipate. What happened to her I do not fully know. If anything these past few months have shown me with the Gaean shades, however, I do not believe she is gone. The dryads remain in the First Vale still. They tend to it and Yggdrasil, healing the scars I left. There they are safe, and can extend their reach to all the forests on the disc through the tree’s magic. Within moments we left the glacier behind and swept over the armies as the last of the dogs were put down. The halla had won the day, but at a terrible cost. Torn banners fluttered over blood-soaked earth, broken shafts of spears thrust up from the bodies of halla and diamond dog alike. On the hillocks next to the river burned the siege engines. The dogs themselves choked the river’s flow with their dead. Looking up, Holm and the vale’s guardian dragon saw me. He led his surviving Bears and soldiers in a cheer that reached up and carried me all the way south.